Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tits up, that’s what McCree would say about the situation. That’s what he did say.

“Well, this here’s gone tits up.”

Hanzo had no idea what that expression was supposed to refer to. He knew it meant events had taken a turn for the worst. But no one ever used the word tits negatively. Unless it was to call someone a tit, like Lena sometimes did. Is that what it meant? That the tits were taking the stage? Somehow Hanzo didn’t think so.

At this point in time, tits up meant Hanzo Shimada and Jesse James McCree had been chased between buildings on a Hollywood backlot, outnumbered and definitely out gunned.

“Get somewhere clear”, Lena had told them. “Somewhere I can bring up the van. Genji’s on his way.”

Hanzo drew back, fired once, twice.

“On your left!” he cried, and McCree responded without question, raising Peacekeeper, glancing, and firing all in one fluid motion. They fought well together. They knew the value of covering the other man’s back, but more importantly they had grown to trust the other’s judgment. It meant they could move smooth, and quick.

In short, they made a good team.

“‘Round the corner,” said McCree. “Three or four of them disappeared. Show ‘em to me.”

“I will draw them out.”

McCree grunted his assent, reloading. Hanzo let loose a scatter shot, drawing grunts of pain and cries of alarm. Four black clad mercs scrambled out into the open. McCree got two of them, bang bang. Hanzo pegged a third merc in the knee and she fell to the ground cursing. He drew again but before he could loose his second arrow he heard another gunshot, only this time not from the cowboy on his left, and his shoulder exploded with pain. He jerked on the bowstring and it snapped, slicing into his unguarded left arm.

“Fuck!” McCree spat, firing blindly to cover their retreat. The pair careened around a corner, behind a big grey brick of a building, an innocuous, ugly square in which the magic of the movies took form. Hanzo had seen his share of action films. For all their high definition detail, nothing could conjure the dizziness, or the sick smell of your own blood and sweat.

“Keep an eye out,” said Jesse, fumbling with gun in hand at the first aid kit on his belt. Gauze, tape, and oh his hip flask, this was gonna sting.

It stung. Hanzo gritted his teeth, and Jesse taped the whole whiskey and blood mess to several layers of gauze. He did the whole thing without thinking, without asking. Hanzo let him, not even bothered in the slightest. What a change this was.

Hanzo heard shouting, “They went this way!” and “Blood, follow the blood!”

“Good to go?” asked McCree. Hanzo nodded. “Up, maybe?” the cowboy suggested. “To the roof? That way we can pick em off on the ladder."

“Do you have enough bullets?”

Jesse checked the chambers of his revolver.

“I got three.”

He patted his belt, searching for a quick loader

“I got three bullets,” he confirmed.

A man in black tactical gear careened around the corner, the muzzle of his rifle held much too low to do him any good. McCree shot him between the eyes before the unfortunate soul even registered they were there.

“Two bullets,” said McCree.

Hanzo chewed his lip, thinking. He fingered the sonic rounds on his back, wishing for the information they would give him. How many? Where were they?

Hanzo did not begrudge the situation he was in. He had been in a bind before; sometimes winning was running and living to fight another day. This was supposed to be recon only, a week camped out in a van, watching comings and goings from a rooftop across the street and playing twenty questions over the comm. The Hollywood lot was a good cover; strange things moved in and out of studios all the time without a second look from the neighbours. Gunshots would go unheeded. They even had a shooting permit.

“A permit to smuggle drugs”, someone had scoffed. Probably Lucio, never a fan of the loopholes that let people who would do harm run free, and the governments who refused to close them. But seven days hanging around in that van was too long, and they drew the attention the drug runners were so adept at avoiding. And of course McCree had to stay behind (“Go I’ll cover you!”), and of course Hanzo couldn’t let him go alone. It had worked a little too well; instead of drawing some of the fire, they had drawn all of it.

“You ready to book it?” McCree asked. Hanzo nodded again, his vision bright with stars and blood loss. They ran, feet slapping the ground between hot, bright sun and baked concrete shade. Hanzo followed the rhythm of McCree’s spurs, letting them guide him. If he looked up into the bright sunlight his vision spun, but he trusted the cowboy. Had grown to trust him. Had grown close enough to him to know he would never lead them astray.

Purposefully anyway.

McCree lead them into a building, dark, shaded, only a green screen and a few emergency lights. It was also a dead end.

“Shit,” McCree spat. “There’s gotta be an emergency exit somewhere. Come on lady luck, you haven’t run out on me yet.” He chewed his cigar nervously, hunting for a way out. He’d been smoking it while they were on lookout, unwilling to give up his pleasures even throughout all the mayhem.

Suddenly McCree straightened and rounded on Hanzo.

“Your dragons!”

“My dragons?”

“Yeah!” McCree looked around. “This is perfect, actually. We’ll close the doors, bottleneck them in and then BAM! The ones that don’t get hit will run away with their tails between their legs.”

“That is all well and good,” said Hanzo, “but the dragons need direction. They need focus. They follow the path I set for them with the arrow.”

Shouting from outside. McCree looked around wildly. No bows, obviously, and no bow strings. His hand went to his holster. Only a brief pause. He drew Peacekeeper, held her out, stock toward Hanzo.

“Bullet’s faster ‘n an arrow.”

Hanzo smiled, “A bullet will do just fine.” He took the revolver, but his sureness was short lived. He couldn’t raise his arm. He tried once, again, but his shoulder cried out in pain and blood welled up and ran freely from behind the soaked bandage.

McCree blanched a little.

“Shit, that’s worse than I thought.”

It was worse than Hanzo had thought, too, though he was always the kind of person to disregard his own pain.

“I do not know that I can aim properly with my other arm,” Hanzo admitted. “If the shot goes wide-”

But they were out of time. The shouting was too close. A bullet winged off a steel beam, echoing across the empty soundstage. Hanzo made a snap decision.

“Take off your glove,” he said.

McCree only stared. “My glove?”

“You trust me, yes? After all this time? You said it. Now take off your glove, and take your gaudy pea shooter from my hand.”

McCree ripped off his glove and practically snatched the gun from him, obviously offended that his precious Peacekeeper was being referred to as a “gaudy pea shooter”. Hanzo was egging him on, trying to get him to move quickly.

“Aim,” instructed Hanzo, positioning himself behind McCree. He could just lift his arm enough to reach across and wrap his hand around McCree’s and the stock of the gun, finger resting atop McCree’s on the trigger. McCree held steady. One man came into sight, then two, from around the same corner. He knew where the enemy lay.

“Ryu ga waga teki wo kurau!” Hanzo barked, pulling down over the trigger. He felt the beasts under his skin rise, the electricity as their forms jumped to life inside him. Sparks flew between the skin of their hands. The static built a bridge uniting their bodies; for a moment their hearts beat as one, they drew breath in time with one another.

McCree’s cigar fell to the floor. The cowboy was slack jawed, his eyes wide and glowing blue with the power of the dragons. It all happened in such a brief amount of time; the energy building, coiling, then springing free. Hanzo felt the dragons rush through him and McCree, then the familiar pulse and rip as the they tore into the material world and away, chasing the path of Peacekeeper’s bullet. Wind buffeted their hair and clothes. There was staring. Screams. Bullets loosed uselessly against the ethereal beasts. The roar of a storm, and then, always, the quiet that followed. Despite the clear skies thunder rumbled in the distance.

McCree was right. Those that did not die ran, some even dropping weapons in their haste.

Hanzo looked up at McCree. This was not a “trick” so to say he had ever tried before. He knew Genji could guide his dragons, but Genji had years to become familiar with the energies of the dragons, learning how to harness their flow. McCree was standing stock still, stunned.

“It is a lot to take in, I know,” said Hanzo, lowering their hands. “The dragons are a force of nature -”

“That was so fucking cool!” McCree cried.

“I … yes? It is?”

“That was fucking amazing holy shit Hanzo did you feel that? Do you feel that every time oh lord it’s like … it’s like havin’ a storm move through you. It’s like an orgasm holy shit.” McCree was dancing around like an child, barely able to control his excitement. “We’re alive Hanzo you did it you crazy bastard oh my god that was so cool!” McCree grabbed Hanzo by the jaw with both hands, pulling him in and planting and happy kiss on his lips. Hanzo, needless to say, was stunned. Before he could be stopped McCree rushed back out into the sun, grabbing his hat and waving it at the retreating forms of the dragons.

“Hey thanks guys! Thanks for the assist that was amazing!”

“McCree-”

The dragons began to turn.

“McCree!” No, no not now not after all this, not at the jaws of his own dragons. “McCree move!” He hollered, but his cried fell on deaf ears, McCree transfixed as the dragons bore down on him.

“Holy fuck!” someone cried. It sounded like Genji, finally arriving on the scene. The dragons enveloped McCree, coiling around him, sniffing and rubbing up against him like curious cats. McCree held out his hand and ran it through an ethereal mane.

“Holy fuck,” Genji panted, pulling up beside his brother.

“Hey hey!” said McCree, “you guys ain’t so bad. You’re just worried about your master, eh?” One of the dragons huffed, bumping its snout against McCree. The other eyed Hanzo and Genji, though there was no malicious intent there. In fact it looked rather playful. The dragons let out a final wuff, coiling in tandem around McCree and then spiraling away into the sky, all while McCree watched in awe.

“Now will you look at that!” said Genji, obviously tickled by what he saw. “I think they like him. Don’t you, brother?” he nudged Hanzo, but Hanzo wasn’t paying attention. He needed to sit down, overwhelmed with adrenaline and relief. They were alive. They were okay. McCree was making friends with the dragons, and Genji had laughed.

And best of all, Jesse had kissed him.

Chapter Text

“You survive what for most people would be certain death,” said Genji, “and you’re all worked up because the - and I quote - “gun toting yankee” laid one on you.”

“In my defense,” argued Hanzo, “I haven’t referred to him as such in some time.”

“No you haven't, but I didn’t think that meant you were pining after him.”

“Pining is a strong word-”

“What would you rather use, in that case?”

Hanzo thought about it.

“Thinking fondly of..?”

Genji just rolled his eyes.

“Okay then. You like him, and he kissed you. What are you going to do about it?”

Do nothing for three days was the answer to that one. Slog through debriefing. Make plans to go back to L.A. with a stronger force. Spend some time with his other teammates. But Hanzo knew he could only do so much for so long before McCree caught on that Hanzo was avoiding him.

And in truth, well, in truth Hanzo didn’t want to avoid McCree. In truth what he wanted was quite the opposite. Staying away was becoming hard, his body would pull toward McCree even as his brain panicked. On the final even he watched the man’s retreating back and swore he felt … hungry.

He caught McCree as he was coming out of the training range, whistling and fanning himself with his hat. It was humid in Gibraltar that evening, the clouds having just opened their bellies fat with rain. It could be heard throughout the base, pattering on concrete pathways and pinging off metal eves. Hanzo much preferred it to dry California heat.

“McCree!” he called, before the other man could get too far. McCree turned and Hanzo jogged a little to catch up. McCree grinned.

“Well howdy there! Barely seen ya’ since we got back. Holdin’ up okay?”

“Me? Yes, I am fine. I was hoping to speak with you.”

“What about?”

Good question. How did Hanzo put this? What words should he use? He opened his mouth, decided against it, thought about it, then decided against that. Hamzo opened and closed his mouth several times, gesticulated somewhat, but didn’t actually say anything.

Saying things was hard.

“Everythin’ alright there darlin’?” asked McCree, blessedly, genuinely concerned. Hanzo sighed.

“Everything is fine. I am just-” he sighed again, rubbing a hand over his eyes.

“Well, maybe if yer having a hard time sayin’ it you could just show me maybe?”

Hanzo gave in, dropped his arms to his sides, looked briefly to the heavens for whatever guidance they could give, then grabbed Jesse by the front of his shirt and pulled him in for a kiss.

“Uhh,” said McCree, as soon as Hanzo let him go. “That … what you wanted to show me?”

“You kissed me,” Hanzo interrupted. “After I - we unleashed the dragons.”

“Ah, yeah,” McCree agreed, looking sheepish. The anger of denial rose up in Hanzo. No! Do not let him back away with that! “Look if it bothered you I get it, it was kinda’ spur of the moment-”

“Do it again,” said Hanzo.

“I … beg your pardon?”

“It did not bother me. I liked it. Kiss me again.”

There was a moment of stunned silence before Jesse lunged at him, cupping Hanzo’s jaw with both hands and pressing their lips together. Hanzo responded hungrily, opening his mouth and pressing their bodies together. They stood like that, pressed together and making out wetly in the hallway outside the practice range.

Jesse tried disengage, obviously trying to say something but Hanzo chased him, unwilling to let go.

Jesse chuckled, finally pulling back to a height Hanzo couldn’t reach.

“Someone’s might see us,” he teased with a sing song voice. Hanzo glowered, lips spit slick and disappointed. In the distance, thunder rumbled amidst the rain.

“So? We are capable adults.”

“Genji might see us.”

That was unfortunately true.

“‘Sides,” McCree continued, even as Hanzo pressed in again, “I need a shower.”

An uncharacteristic lust sparked deep in Hanzo’s gut. He grabbed McCree’s hips and kissed him again, nipping his lower lip.

“You’ll need a shower when we’re done anyway.”

McCree smiled, letting out a please little “hmph”. He pressed his forehead to Hanzo’s.

“C’mon, I know you darlin’. I’m okay with takin’ her slow.”

“Maybe,” said Hanzo. He slotted their fingers together, the pushed back and pinned McCree against the hallway wall. “Maybe,” he growled, growled in his ear, “there’s a part of me you don’t know yet.”

McCree flushed. Hanzo kissed his jaw under his ear.

“Do you want to get to know me?” Hanzo could barely believe this was coming out of his own mouth.

“You sure, darlin’?” McCree asked. “I really meant it. You- you’re worth waitin’ for.”

“Hmm, you’d wait for me?”

McCree nodded. Hanzo briefly considered backing off and seeing just how long he could tease the cowboy for, but the hunger clawed at his stomach again, the object of its desire so close within reach.

“I believe you,” Hanzo purred. “Which is why I am so sure.”

McCree caved, pulling Hanzo around and kissing him with so much longing it drew sparks up Hanzo’s belly and into his chest.

“My place is closer,” Jesse murmured. Hanzo nodded and they were off, hand in hand, keeping a furtive eye out for any of their teammates. No sooner was the door closed behind them then Hanzo had Jesse in his hands once more, working his shirt from around his shoulders even as he pushed him back onto his cot.

“Oi,” said Jesse, catching Hanzo’s hands at his belt. “Your turn.”

Hand frowned but reached to his waist and peeled his tee shirt off anyway. Jesse took care of his pants and underpants in one go, kicking them off with his boots. He let his eyes wander freely over Hanzo’s bare chest. He stroked himself a couple of times, making a show of being exposed.

Tits up, Hanzo thought, bemusedly.

“Hair too,” Jesse demanded. Hanzo complied, pulling the ribbon free with a satisfying swip and letting his hair cascade over his cheeks.

“Soo, what did you have in mind?”

Attack, kiss, fuck, devour… The thunder sounded again, closer.

“There’s some shit in the drawer there,” McCree suggested. By shit Jesse meant lube and optimistically purchased condoms, i.e. one box was unopened and one bottle was well used. Hanzo seated himself between Jesse’s legs.

“You use this a lot?” he teased slicking up his fingers. McCree smirked to hide the blush.

“Man’s got needs, y’know?”

“I do,” said Hanzo, pressing his fingers into McCree.

“Fuck,” Jesse hissed. Hanzo worked him, the hunger in his belly rolling, pushing. He leaned forward and locked their mouths together, using his other hand to paw, grab stroke, squeeze making Jesse buck, freeing his lips and roaming over the other man's neck until they found the sensitive spot beneath his ear again, all the while twisting and stretching, prepping Jesse like a good meal. Hanzo let go of his neck and dived down to Jesse’s cock, tasting the sweat and the musk and the happy twist as Jesse groaned beneath him.

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph this is not how I saw my night going.”

“Mm, yes,” Hanzo agreed. “It is so much better when the hand belongs to someone else.”

Jesse glared petulantly, propping himself up on his elbows. “Would be nice if someone else used his cock too - ah!” Jesse gasped as Hanzo added a third finger, testing the waters. They were hot and slick and very much used to this kind of treatment. Hanzo pulled his fingers free, accepting the tissue box (something else he coincidentally left next to his bed) that Jesse wiggled in his direction. Hanzo popped his fly and shimmied his cock free, wrapping himself in a condom (also why the fuck was it blue?) and slicking up without bothering to take his pants off.

“Aw c’mon,” Jesse whined, but the hunger sparked and reared its head again, so Hanzo swallowed his complaints and pushed inside, savouring the sweet taste of Jesse’s gasps and the feel of his hands on his ass, urging him further.

Urging that Hanzo definitely did not need.

Oh he tried to savour it, he tried. The taste of Jesse McCree was salt and smoke, but the feel of him around Hanzo’s cock was so, so sweet. Hanzo’s stomach growled, or maybe he did he’d lost track, and before he knew it he’d set them into a steady rhythm, Jesse’s cock grinding against Hanzo’s belly, Hanzo trying desperately to taste him and catch his breath at the same time.

“Wow,” said Jesse, pushing a sweaty strand of hair from Hanzo’s forehead. “You were really gunnin’ for this, weren’t you?”

Hanzo replied with a “hmph,” snatching both of Jesse’s wrists and pinning him above his head. Outside, lightning had joined the rain and thunder.

“I am going to devour you,” he declared. Jesse grinned like it was a challenge, lifting himself with surprising ease despite being pinned and snatching Hanzo’s lips.

“Insolent,” Hanzo growled. “Fine, if that is how you would have it.” He let Jesse go and sat back on his haunches instead, hooking Jesse’s knee over his shoulder. Hanzo redoubled his efforts, feasting himself. Jesse seemed to be enjoying this position more, too, pushing back on Hanzo’s cock, hands crawling up to fist in the pillow behind his head. All spread out for Hanzo to enjoy. He could feel electricity crawling underneath his skin, pooling with the lust in his gut and sparking where his fingers gripped Jesse’s thigh.

Lightning flickered again above the base, this time taking the power with it. Both men elected silently that they were too busy to care.

“Han,” Jesse gasped, “Han, Jesus.” His hand went to his own cock, working it to the rhythm of Hanzo’s thrusts.

“Hn, that’s right.” Hanzo grinned, his features sharp in the glare of the lightning. “Are you going to finish for me?” He slowed down somewhat, rolling into his thrusts. Jesse swore and sped up the hand on his cock, so Hanzo nudged it out of the way and took over, his grip firm, sliding and squeezing in time with the movement of his hips. Jesse was muttering something intelligible, something along the lines of “fuck shit fuck God Han yes keep doin’ that yep fuck,” and groaned audibly as he released all across his stomach. Hanzo’s grin was practically predatory as he drank in the sight, picking up the pace once more, chasing his own release. Outside the wind drove rain against the window and thunder growled.

“C’mere,” Jesse beckoned, reaching out to Hanzo. Hanzo obliged, crawling up McCree, into his arms. His pace began to falter, growing desperate, seeking only the pleasure. Outside the sound of the thunder broke, cracked, finally catching up with the lightning, and in the brief bright light Jesse could have sworn Hanzo’s eyes shone cat-yellow.

He blinked and it was gone. Hanzo shuddered on top of him, reaching once more for Jesse’s lips as he came, biting down on the other man’s lip hard enough to draw blood.

The room fell quiet but for the sounds of rain and heavy breathing. Hanzo slid sideways, trying to avoid collapsing on top of McCree and making an even bigger mess. But there wasn’t very far to go and it was a little too late for that anyhow.

“You good?” asked Jesse to the top of Hanzo’s head, reaching over again to push his hair behind his ear. Hanzo nodded, causing Jesse to laugh.

“Honestly, I knew you were into me. Didn’t know you were giving yourself blue balls though.”

Hanzo glared up at him from under his brows, but didn’t lift his head.

“I was not.”

“Oh so yer always gonna be like this in bed then?”

“No I …” Hanzo slid an arm over Jesse’s chest, searching for words. “That was uncharacteristic of me.”

“Hey, I ain’t complainin’.”

“I suppose I grew tired of … holding things in.” He’d felt possessed is how he felt, gripped by the sudden surety that Jesse McCree was his and needed to be shown that this was so. “It was as if the dragons had awoken,” he said aloud. “As if they had sighted their prey, and there is nothing that stands in their way when they are hungry.”

I will devour you.

“Well,” said Jesse, a teasing edge to his voice. “Was I good enough for ‘em?”

Hanzo chuckled fondly, finally pulling himself up so he could kiss Jesse on his sweaty forehead.

“You were positively delectable.”

“Aw, thank ye’ kindly.” McCree touched Hanzo’s chin, tilting his gaze down to meet the other man’s eyes.

“I meant what I said before, eh? About gettin’ to - to know each other. Maybe bein’ a thing.”

“Hm, well, you and I - we certainly are something.” Hanzo chuckled at his own joke. For once it was McCree who remained unamused. “I meant what I said, Jesse.” Hanzo kissed him again, slower, like they had all the time in the world.

“Jesse?”

“Mm?”

“What does ‘tits up’ mean?”

Jesse chuckled. “It means things have become a mighty fine mess.”

Around them the lights flickered back on, followed by the hum of the air conditioning. Though the rain continued to patter, the storm had passed.

“Oh thank god we can take that shower now,” Jesse groaned, peeling away from Hanzo and rolling out of bed. “And yes I said we, yer comin’ too you created this mess!”

Hanzo smiled. A mess, yes, but a fine one indeed.